Shattered Pawn
by Ammie Hawk
Summary: The war against Voldemort ended in the DoM and Harry, having fulfilled his purpose, was discarded by the Wizarding World. The Dursleys no longer obligated to care for their nephew do the unthinkable and sell him into slavery, now common in Muggle world.
1. Prologue: Sold!

Shattered Pawn

By Ammie Hawk

Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or Gundam Wing. I just love torturing the poor characters and bending them to my will. MWAHAHAHAHAHA

Summary: The war against Voldemort ended in the DoM and Harry, having fulfilled his purpose, was discarded by the wizarding world. The Dursleys, no longer obligated to care for their nephew, do the unthinkable and sell him into slavery, a now common practice in the Muggle world.

Warnings: Bad!Wizarding world (minus select few), Slave!Harry, Yaoi

Pairings: 04/HP (eventually), 03/05, 01/02

Prologue: Sold!

Harry Potter lay on his bed in the smallest bedroom of number 4 Privet Drive, his back bloody from his most recent beating from his uncle. It had only been a week since he returned to his relatives house from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but what with the recent downfall of Voldemort, he was at their mercy.

Though he wasn't really sure why, it had surprised the young savior how fast the wizarding world had turned their backs on him once his purpose had been completed. Not that he got credit for it though. No, that had gone to Dumbledore, who had been seen with his wand pointed at the snake faced bastard as he drew his last breath. Fudge had immediately apologized to the old man and declaired him, once again, the defeater of a dark wizard. But in truth, it had been Harry who had killed Voldemort once and for all, with the help of Bellatrix Lestrange, amazingly enough.

After Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, had fallent through the Veil, Harry had followed the bitch who sent him through, intent on avenging his godfather. He managed to slow her up with the Cruciatus Curse, but he just couldn't perform it correctly. Just after she got back to her feet, Voldemort had shown up, followed almost immediately by Dumbledore.

The two had fought for what felt like hours, and finally Voldemort decided to bring Harry into the fray. Using the link of Harry's scar, he managed to shift his spirit into the younger wizard. While Dumbledore was distracted by this new turn of events, Bellatrix decided she would eliminate him as a threat to her master. But as fate, luck, or whatever higher power you prescribe to, would have it, her aim was slightly off and the green jet of light sped past the wizened old Headmaster and hit the immobile form of Lord Voldemort instead. When the realization of what she had done hit her, the Azkaban-crazed woman turned her wand on herself and ended her own life.

Voldemort's spirit, no longer having a body it was attached to, tried to take over Harry but couldn't and was driven out. When Harry finally regained control of his body, he began an incantation Hermione had found to send an unanchored spirit on a one way ticket to the other side. As Voldemort's spirit dissolved into vapor, his body convulsed once before finally lying still, never to move again.

At that exact moment, Fudge and almost every other Ministry official showed up. The Minister of Magic offered a full apology and pardon to Dumbledore on the spot, and then, after hearing the Headmaster's account of what had just happened, went over and picked up Harry's wand, snapping it cleanly in two and sentencing him to live the remainder of his life as a Muggle.

All his assets in Gringotts were distributed to various charities, as stated in his parents' will, while his school supplies, as well as his prized Firebolt, would go to less fortunate Hogwart's students. It was just lucky for him that his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders Map were hidden in his jeans pocket at the time or he would've lost them as well.

As Harry lay there, his mind wandered to the most recent reason for his uncle's wrath: Hedwig. He hadn't seen his former pet since the Ministry had snapped his wand and he'd assumed she had been assigned as one of the school owls. However, the letter she had delivered to him proved that theory wrong. It was from Hermione Granger, one of his best friends and former year mates at Hogwarts.

The letter had been worth the punishment though. Apparently, Ron, his former best friend, and his sister, Ginny, had believed Dumbledore's bullshit about him and had also taken partial credit for Voldy's fall, as well as claiming the majority of his personal belongings. However, when Hermione realized this, she wrote both of them off as her friends and had put in a transfer to Beauxbatons. And, according to the letter, she had been accepted and she and her parents were in the process of moving to France.

Harry was glad that at least one person believed he wasn't going to take Voldemort's place as Dark Lord. He was also extremely relieved that Hedwig had picked the witch for her new owner. He knew Hermione would take good care of his faithful pet.

He came back to the present as he heard the front door slam. He curled up into a tight ball, knowing his uncle had just returned from wherever he had gone after bloodying his nephew. He vaguely thought of throwing himself out the window as he heard the heavy tread of his tormenter coming up the stairs. Before he could muster up the strength to do anything, the door flew open, flooding the small room in bright light. He threw his hands up over his head, hoping to shield himself from the light and whatever was about to come his way.

"I see what you mean," said a voice he didn't recognize. "He'd be the perfect gift to sweeten the deal. However, the back will have to be treated before we can make the offer. We wouldn't want to offer him damaged goods, now would we?"

"Of course not," his uncle snorted smugly. "I'll have the missus come up immediately and get him cleaned up for transportation."

"You have your raise, Dursley," the stranger said, stepping closer to the bed. "Even if the merger fails, this little one will fetch a charming profit."

Harry felt his hands being lowered forcefully and something was slipped around his neck.

"I'll be back for him in the morning," the stranger caressed Harry's raven locks tenderly. "Be sure he's bathed as well, wouldn't want the little slave smelling of sweat and blood."

Without another word, the pair left the room, plunging it back into utter darkness. Harry let out a soft whimper as what was said and done actually sank in. His uncle had just sold him into slavery! For a raise! Tears stung his eyes as he reached up to touch the soft leather of the slave collar now adorning his throat.

* * *

Ammie: I know, yet another fic started by me. This is just something I had started on my computer and decided to see where it would go. Anyway, please tell me what you think.


	2. Chapter 1: The Deal

Shattered Pawn

By Ammie Hawk

Disclaimer: Not mine.

AN: Okay, so here is the next chappie of Shattered Pawn. Please don't kill me! *Hides behind Deathscythe*

Chapter 1: The Deal

Quatre Rebarba Winner sat at the head of a long table in the middle of a conference room on the twentieth floor of his London based office of Winner Enterprises. He resisted the urge to lay his head in his hands and massage his temples, as the businessmen around him would take it as a sign of weakness on the young CEO's part. Behind him, his friend and temporary bodyguard, Heero Yuy, took a step forward, noting the signs the blonde was emitting.

"Gentlemen, please," he said quietly, effectively ending the argument that had been circling the table for the past five minutes between his board of directors and the man currently trying to associate with their company. "I can see your concerns, Mr. Holden. However, you have to realize, that Winner Enterprises does have its own interests to look after as well. We cannot, in good conscious, sign the contract you are presenting to us. While Grunnings may be the leader in drill production on the Earth Sphere, there are more reliable companies that don't have the shady history that yours does. It would be foolhardy of us to sign exclusive rights to you."

"I assure you, sir," Mr. Holden bared his teeth in what he obviously thought was a winning smile. "We have dealt with any and all problems that have come to our attention."

Quatre snapped his fingers, and Heero placed a file in his hands, "I have here, a report, gathered by my own investigative team, on your company and current employees."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, sir," Mr. Holden's brow furrowed in confusion.

"In this report," he tapped the folder in front of him, which Heero himself had compiled for him, "we found several entries that cannot be explained. The most worrisome ones are the sudden, substantial increases in pay to certain managerial positions. Now, I will give you the opportunity to explain these raises, for lack of a better term, without which I will not put my name or company behind yours."

"Ah," Mr. Holden leaned confidently back in his chair, so the little whelp had decided to check in on him, not that it mattered, he wasn't doing anything illegal. "Grunnings has recently branched out into a slightly lucrative side business. Those raises are for my employees who have helped with that end."

"And just what exactly is this lucrative business?" the blonde Arabian leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and supporting his chin on his hands. "We need to have everything in the open before I'm willing to sign anything."

"I'm glad you asked, Mr. Winner," Mr. Holden smiled broadly, taking the younger man's posture as curiosity. "We would actually like to present you with a gift from our side branch."

The older businessman pushed to his feet and made his way over to the door. He stuck his head out and said something to someone waiting outside. A moment later, a small teenage boy with messy black hair walked sedately into the conference room, his head bowed and shoulders hunched. If Quatre or Heero had to guess at his age they'd have said around 13 or 14 years old.

"As you can see," Mr. Holden placed his hands on the raven haired youth's shoulders, "he is a striking lad. Not only is he good at cooking and cleaning, he is also quite capable in a wider variety of areas," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the blonde teen.

"I see," teal eyes flashed dangerously as he realized the implications of what this man was talking about. "Your gift is most generous."

"It's not a problem, he was the first of several I acquired," Holden beamed as he confidently took his seat once again, nudging the boy in the direction of the blonde CEO. "So, do we have a deal?"

"It appears I have no choice," Quatre allowed a small smirk to cross his face, and Heero instinctively tensed up, sensing the ZERO system coming to the fore. "Yuy, the contract, if you will."

The messy haired former Wing pilot nodded once, knowing exactly what was going on in the blonde's head. He flipped open a file he'd had in his hands and began perusing the items inside. The businessmen around the table began fidgeting nervously the longer the brunette took, as if expecting the little blonde to explode in the mean time. Almost a full minute passed before Heero pulled out a paper and handed it to the CEO.

"Thank you," Quatre flashed him a slightly crazed smile, before passing the paper down the table. "Mr. Holden, if you would be so kind as to place your signature on the bottom, we shall be done here."

"Of course," Mr. Holden grabbed his pen and barely scanned the paper in front of him before placing his signature at the bottom.

He then passed it back down to the Winner Head. Quatre nodded once it had reached his hands, placing his signature underneath the other man's. He then handed it back to Heero, who placed it back in the folder, and then slowly pushed to his feet.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Holden," his smirk now held a very confident edge. "My people will be in contact in a few days. Gentlemen," he addressed the remainder of his board of directors, "if you need me, I'll be in my office."

With that he turned on his heel and walked out of the conference room. Heero followed, ushering the 'gift' along with a hand to his arm. The other businessmen left at their leisure, all of them knowing they had work to complete before going home for the day. One old man, however, decided to see his young boss about what had just happened in the meeting.

Quatre reached his office and was preparing to break something, hopefully not his fists, Sally would get mad at him for that. How could that bastard expect him to calmly accept that fucking, underhanded, disgusting practice? It was because of the slave trade that two of his best friends were now considered outcasts. His fist finally curled around a ridiculously expensive vase and he threw it against the wall with a scream. As the pieces rained down on the leather sofa beneath it, there came a gentle knock on the door.

"It's open," he barked out, his eyes darting around for something else he could get away with breaking.

"Mr. Winner... Quatre," Mr. Winston, the old board member, sighed, stepping into the office. "You need to calm down."

The blonde took a deep breath before turning to the old man, "What can I do for you, Winston?"

Mr. Winston took a seat in one of the chairs across the desk from the Winner heir, "You can begin by telling me why you accepted that man's merger. I thought you didn't approve of the slave trade, or anyone who took part in it."

The former Sandrock pilot chuckled maniacally, also taking a seat, "I didn't. And I don't. He just thought I did."

"What do you mean?" Winston's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I just bought Grunnings out from under his nose, at a fraction of what it was worth," the blonde smiled, his eyes still carrying a manic gleam. "He was foolish enough to sign the contract without reading it. Now, Winston, I want you to be in charge of cleaning it up to WIE standards. I expect the reports on my desk in two weeks. And here," he pulled the evaluation report out and handed it to the old man, "I expect the circled names to be discharged immediately."

"Understood," Winston stood up, a proud smile across his face. "I knew you'd be good for this company, I always told your father as much. Enjoy your vacation, Quatre."

The young CEO nodded, glad the man had understood his intentions, "I will see you when I get back."

"Go on," the old man laughed. "Go set that slave free, I know you plan on it."

The offhanded comment brought the teen up short. He turned blank teal eyes on the man standing inside his door. Winston wasn't sure what to make of that look, it was so lost and helpless, so unlike the normally confident young man who ran this company with an iron fist.

"I can't," he said hoarsely, then cleared his throat. "It isn't possible to set a slave free, not until their time is up. The collars around their neck ensure that."

"I'm sorry," the old man blinked, pulling his young boss into a tight fatherly hug. "I didn't know. I've never paid attention to the slave trade."

"It's not your fault," the former Sandrock pilot sniffed, pulling away from him. "I'll see you later."

With a final wave over his shoulder, the teen made his way out of his office and toward the car park, where he knew Heero would be waiting.

8888888

Harry wasn't sure what was happening to him anymore. The days since he'd been given his collar had seemed to bleed into one gigantic nightmare, from which he couldn't wake.

Once his uncle and Mr. Holden had left, his aunt had come up to the room, and began cleaning the wounds on his back. Not that she'd been very gentle about it at all. No, she'd marched him over to the bathroom and forced him to take a scalding shower. Once that was done, she poured a whole bottle of peroxide over his back and only dabbed at it to make sure it didn't get on anything else. She'd then wrapped fresh bandages around his torso so they could heal properly, or so she'd said.

The following day, Mr. Holden had returned, as promised, and taken him away from his relatives. He had heard his uncle tell the man that he knew how to cook and clean, and that he was also good at lawn work. And that's what Harry had done, he'd cooked and cleaned for Mr. Holden, a confirmed bachelor, for how long, he wasn't sure. The worst part, however, had come later.

From the condition of his back he could tell several days had passed, when he was summoned into Mr. Holden's study after dinner. He tried so hard to forget what he'd been forced to do while he was in that room, but he couldn't. That horrid treatment had continued repeatedly, until today. The only consolation he took away from that experience was that he hadn't been physically taken by the older man.

He wasn't sure about now though. Would his new master be like Mr. Holden? Would he expect the same things from him? He barely suppressed a shudder at the thought. He knew better, however, than to get his hopes up. When had anything good ever happened to Harry Bloody Potter? There were times he wished he could just curl up in a hole somewhere and die, but even that dream eluded him.

Head still bowed, he glanced out of the corner of his eye at the person walking next to him. He had never been a good judge of age, but he'd have to say this boy didn't look too much older than he himself was. The blonde in the conference room, his new master, hadn't looked much older either. Would that make them nicer to him, or worse? If the scowl this one was throwing him was any indication of how they'd treat him, he was in for a world of pain.

He blinked back his circling thoughts, they were starting to give him a headache anyway, and just decided to see what would happen. There was no point in worrying about what might happen to him when he hadn't even had a chance to properly meet his new master. Just as this thought entered his mind, the man beside him stopped next to a long black limousine.

8888888

Heero wasn't happy with the turn of events going on around him. Oh, he knew why his blonde friend had accepted his 'gift', he sneered at the title. He knew that Quatre was appalled by the slave trade, as were all of the former pilots, but there was nothing any of them could do about it. Not that two of their number had any legal rights to do anything about it anyway, even if they'd wanted to.

The slave trade had started up mere weeks after the fateful events of Christmas A.C. 196. Apparently, the Barton Foundation had gotten their hands on hundreds, possibly even millions, of the collars and had passed them out to select groups of people throughout the Sphere and surrounding colonies. Everyone had been too caught up with making sure on other insurgents were planning a coupe to pay attention to the under-classed people of the ESUN. By the time the Preventers had noticed something going on, it was too late to stop it, without going into another full on war. No one wanted that, so they decided to overlook it, hoping it'd just go away.

His features darkened as he thought of the consequences of their stupidity. Not only had innocents all over the Sphere and in the colonies become enslaved, but his own lover had as well.

It had been scant weeks after the uprising and Duo had returned to L-2, when those bastards struck. They had come to his mechanics shop, and surrounded him as he worked on one of the machines. His years on the streets, and subsequently fighting a war, had led him to giving quite a fight before they finally resulted to drugging him. The other pilot refused to tell him, or anyone else, what happened in the months before Heero had found him, but when he had it was too late, the highly recognized collar was already in place.

The Perfect Soldier had tried everything within his power to remove the abomination from his lover, but there was nothing he could do. The simple looking collar had turned out to be a thin, yet unbreakable, piece of gundanium alloy surrounded by soft black leather, clasped together with a time-release lock. They had both employed every technique they could come up with to crack that lock, but nothing worked. There was just no way to remove the collar before the time was up.

With that being the case, the former Wing pilot had taken custody of his lover, hoping to wait it out. Not that the braided teen was treated like a slave at all. Yet it did hurt the former street rat that he could no longer go out on his own, his collar making him lower than the lowest prisoner. It hadn't been until later that something else had come to their attention.

A few months after they had exhausted their resources, while on a supposedly routine mission for the Preventers, Wufei Chang had been captured. The bastards, after repeatedly torturing the Chinese agent, had slapped a slave collar on him as well. After his rescue, by an elite team that consisted of all the former pilots, including Duo, they had taken a closer look at the time lock, at Lady Une's insistence. What they had found had caused their blood to run cold and the Preventers to actually step in and place some forms of laws on the growing trade.

The time locks, they discovered, came in three levels, each denoted by the color of leather used. A light tan collar was the least amount of time given, a five year lock. The next was a medium brown, and was a ten year lock. However, the final color, the one that both Duo and Wufei now wore, black, was set for life.

The lesser locks were discovered to be controlled by a computer chip that could not be removed or even traced back to the computer controlling it, no matter how many times Heero tried to hack into it. The black ones were, for all intents and purposes, infallible. After the Preventers had banned the use of the black collars, they had taken all of them, not in use, in for further examination. They ran all sorts of tests and it was discovered that they only opened twenty-four hours after the heart stopped beating, making it impossible for a human to fake the collar into believing they were dead. His frown deepened at this train of thought. While the Preventers had made it an offense punishable by death for anyone to use a black collar, there were still some floating around that they hadn't managed to get a hold of during the original sweep.

With these thoughts going through his head as they reached the car, Heero's hand shot out and, ignoring the boy's flinch, lowered the collar of his shirt, revealing for the first time the monstrosity that adorned his slim neck. His eyes widened fractionally as his mind registered what he was actually looking at. He fumbled slightly for the phone attached to his belt, his hand never leaving the boy's shirt. Finally, after a moment, he had the desired number dialed and the device was ringing in his ear.

"What is it, Heero?" Quatre's anxious voice answered.

"Call Une," he said stoically, but the other could tell something was horribly wrong.

"What's wrong, Heero?" the blonde asked, his voice low and Heero could tell ZERO was still close to the surface.

"It's black, 04."

There was loud swearing on the line before it went dead. But it continued to fill the covered parking garage as the former Sandrock pilot made his way toward them, causing Harry to cower in on himself.

* * *

Ammie: Okay, please don't kill me for what I did to poor Harry, Duo, and Fei, but I love them so much that I had to torture them. Anyway, please tell me what you think.


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